


Walk Me Home (in the Dead of Night)

by glamorouspixels



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Cuddling, Dead Man's Chest, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Missing Scene, Nudity, Poor Jack, Romance, S02E03, sexy fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-04-23 00:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22227847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamorouspixels/pseuds/glamorouspixels
Summary: Jack escorts Phryne home after their unexpected plunge into the water.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 23
Kudos: 115





	Walk Me Home (in the Dead of Night)

**Author's Note:**

> Title stolen from _Walk Me Home_ by P!nk.
> 
> Thank you to Fire_Sign for helping me connect these events and turn random moments that I wanted to exist into a fic, and to martinisandart, acrazyobsession (who deserves lots of extra love for letting me be extremely annoying and whiny about the whole thing), and LeChatNoir1918 for reading through it, suggesting improvements, and encouraging me to actually get it posted! <3

Jack, it turned out, hadn’t exactly thought ahead of his own foolishly mindless proposal. Not that he’d been given much of a choice.  _ It’s only right that I escort you home.  _ Hanging there, Phryne’s hand so near his own that he could sense the remnants of warmth radiating off her skin before the last of it was seized by the ocean breeze, he wasn’t certain what he’d expected. Even with the suspects of their investigation up above and the dark, drowning abyss down below, he hadn’t thought it possible she’d simply let go. Her black-clad form slicing elegantly through the water, rippling its silky skin until it closed around her, unperturbed. 

What meager lighting the lapping waves provided, giving back the slender beams of pale-blue moonlight and a scattering of stars, had cast her in an ethereal shine. She’d appeared all but translucent, a faraway deception called upon by the moon’s soothing graze, a happy coincidence as the glow curled around the air just so. His hand, he thought, would’ve passed right through her, had he dared to reach out. 

He’d granted himself no more than a blink to engage his musings. As the water took her tightly in its chilly arms, a strange tugging overtook his heart and pulled him with her, the grip of his fingers releasing the damp wood with striking intent, even bearing in mind the plunge to come. And indeed, the ocean was merciless. Shivers locked him in, shamelessly disregarding his protective layers as his body desired nothing but to go limp. Kicking himself into motion, he fought the heavy drag of soaked trousers, his drenched overcoat, and broke the surface, gasping for precious air. 

Phryne, as expected, was already one step ahead; she was waiting for him by the shore, huddled deep inside her own ruined coat. In shaking hands, she wrung her black beret, the fabric leaking trickles of water across her pale skin before he took it from her tight grip. “Glad you could join me,” she panted, crimson lips parting around the words as she struggled to regain the breath the cold had knocked from her lungs. 

***

Now, she was anything but intangible. When just moments ago she’d seemed impossibly far, she was undeniably real, huddled into his side. Even more than that, she was  _ freezing.  _ Their unexpected dive had revealed the true nature of what had appeared a friendly summer night. It was as though the gentle breeze, once peaceful, had changed its course and pulled them in. 

She clutched his arm with both of hers, pressed close and shivering as they walked, the icy drops shaking her delicate frame. Thanks to the picking-up breeze, even the rising temperature of approaching morning did little to help their situation. Neither did offering up his coat, which was as thoroughly soaked as her own. 

Through the many layers he felt the tight grip of her small hands, one curled around his bicep, the other inching down his arm, fingertips just grazing his bare wrist. As much as he was enjoying their startling intimacy – he found himself utterly fond of the soft press of her fingertips, the ghost of her breath tingling against his cheek as she attempted to rest her head against his shoulder – it was without a doubt drawing out their walk to inadvisable lengths. Her shivers were advancing by the second; he could almost sense the cold extending around her bones as the wind pressed forward in time with the bursts of scarlet coloring the sunrise sky. 

He’d only intended to glance at her in angling his head – and had hugely underestimated their closeness. His nose brushed Phryne’s, their breaths hitching at the touch, and he found himself helplessly bewitched by the deep, dark pools of her eyes that sparkled like the fading stars surrounding them. 

“Do you want me to–”

“I can–”

The two of them shared a shaky laugh and turned hesitantly away. If he didn't know better, Jack might guess he’d felt a gentle heat radiating off her cheeks. Thankfully, she didn't loosen her grip on his arm; he loved the pressure, impossibly warm, of her hands through the wet material of his coat. Two points of warmth banishing the frost before it could find a firmer hold. But another, much vaster glow than even her touch extended from his rapidly beating heart. 

Still, he knew he had to make haste if he desired to keep his word and have her home by sunrise. Before Phryne succumbed to the deepening chill with her light coat of little effect against the shivers. 

He aimed his attention at their surroundings, taking in the pink-tinged sky and infinite sea, the scent of undisguised adventure heavy on the breeze. Mixed in with traces of her French perfume, it was intoxicating. Pleasantly clouding his senses until all else faded but slight weight by his side, the way his entire body hummed from that little brush of her bare skin against his. Certainly, she must feel the pounding of his pulse beneath her fingertips – Jack, to his surprise, found that he didn’t much care. 

They were alone, nothing but the whispering sea keeping them company as it mingled with the breeze. It looked, from afar, deceptively peaceful, the way the tide unabashedly caressed the shore. Sure, what he wanted to do was indecent, but who was there to judge? 

“Here, let me–”

Gently shaking off her grip, Jack shifted his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. He felt her shiver slightly as the water dried, the material of her coat soggy and raw. (Even with her chilled form against his, he was determined not to allow his mind the pleasure of imagining to get her out of it.) Having merely intended to rest his hand upon her shoulder, the breath stuttered in his throat when Phryne brought up her own to lace her fingers with his. 

Although she was looking straight ahead, Jack could make out a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as her thumb drew tender patterns into the sensitive skin of his palm; she looked impressively composed. 

“Do you do this with every woman you throw into the ocean?” 

It required tremendous effort to discern her words over the sound of his heart pounding out of his chest. “I didn’t throw you. You went in first – I was merely following your lead.”

He knew he’d said the wrong thing as soon as he made known his words; the dazzling grin she shot him over her shoulder only confirmed his suspicions, even as it twisted something low in his belly. 

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re coming around, Inspector! You know where to find me when the mood strikes again.” Only over his dead body would he admit how that ridiculous, pleased tone of hers worked on him. 

Silence, only rarely disturbed by the melodic rushing and receding of the waves, settled comfortably around them and Jack directed his focus on the wide, looming mansion up ahead, calmly anticipating their return. As they slipped unseen into the shadows, the moon extended its twinkling rays to guide them home, her hand securely entwined with his. 

***

It was only when they made it to her room that Jack realized he lacked a sufficient plan as to where this was going . To just leave her there felt wrong after the walk they'd shared and Phryne’s expectant look seemed to agree. They stood facing each other before her door, her hand slipping hesitantly out of his, their fingertips still touching. With one of her hands wrapped around the handle, the other wouldn't quite let him go.

“Well then, Jack. I’ll see you in the morning?” Her eyes were a tangle of emotions, wicked sparks replaced by tenderness that held him still. Mesmerized, he studied how her tempting lips wrapped around the question. Naturally, she caught him staring.

He chose instead to drown in her blue eyes that put to shame even the glittering surface of the sea. Even the storm that sizzled through them was infinitely more inviting, there to wash him gently to the shore, should he get caught in its tangled depths. And when he did, he knew she’d welcome him with open arms. “Though of course, I wouldn’t be one to object if you insisted on helping me out of these garments,” said Phryne. He blinked rapidly, forcing his mind to return to the here and now. 

His response was a heavy lump in his throat. “I think I’ve done my duty for the evening.” She glared fondly at him, and he tried very hard not to mull over his words, the strangled tone of his voice. 

To her credit, she didn't let her disappointment show; the challenging spark in her eyes appeared only to turn brighter, her smirk more appreciative. “Whatever you say, Jack – but do tell me when you change your mind.” Now was his turn to feel the heat growing in his cheeks as her eyes wandered swiftly down his body, making a show of liking what she saw. 

The chill forgotten, the collar of his drenched shirt felt suddenly tight and to clear his throat didn’t little to help. “I promise you'll be the first to know.” She gave a small shake of her head at the sight of his quick, affirmative nod. 

“Good night, Miss Fisher.”

“Sleep well!” She disappeared into the room beyond with a mocking little wave, wriggling her fingers and flashing him another one of those wide, dazzling grins that made his cheeks heat up.

Feeling for a moment disoriented as the door closed behind her, Jack waited in the shadowy hallway. He took the time to steady his breathing, to hold in check the smile that threatened to grow. If he ran his thumb over the edge of his palm, he could still feel her warmth where her touch had been rubbed deep into his skin. Only then, when he was certain she wouldn’t invite him in, did he turn to leave with a mild ache in his heart, not realizing he never did return her beret. 

***

He noticed, of course, right upon entering his own bedroom, just as the unnerving little jolts in his chest were beginning to subside. While he didn’t quite feel prepared to face her again, he reasoned he’d best get it over with. Even as he changed out of his wet clothes he sensed the damned thing tormenting him like an invasive pair of eyes pursuing his every step.  _ Her _ eyes, delightedly, thoroughly surveying him as he undressed. 

He tried not to think of the open fire in her gaze as she’d examined him, swiftly discarding the heavy layers and setting out to find a fresh set of clothes to don. Because he made a quick choice to get back at her Jack bypassed his usual attire of waistcoat and jacket; he felt oddly exposed as he pulled his braces into position atop his shirt. Then, upon a startling bout of bravery, he undid the topmost button and ran a disarraying hand through his wet hair, which the rushing of the sea had turned loose and wavy. 

Standing before him in the mirror was a man entirely new and unfamiliar – at least that was what he hoped Phryne would see when he came again to her room. To him, it seemed little more than a glaring attempt to please her gone too far, though he presumed the teasing that would likely ensure if he showed up in full suit to send back her hat was justified. 

Before he could change his mind he was out through the door, the wicked piece of fabric that had brought along this predicament secure in his grip.

***

He hesitated only briefly at her door, wanting the situation done and over with. It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed their little excursion, but when time stood suspended around them, her temptation became too much to bear. When the dead of night arrived and brought with it the velvet dark, all but their souls seemed to wash away. As the clouds parted to present the scattered stars, with them were revealed his deep-buried longing and the foolish hopes that appeared suddenly much more sensible. 

In short, between his already twisted emotions and the mystic spell that laced the air, he didn’t trust himself around her. Vowing to keep a safe distance, Jack brought his knuckles hesitantly against the wooden door. To his ears the knock sounded impossibly heavy, making plain his apprehension from the very start. 

“Door’s open!” Her voice sounded removed, reverberating from the far end of the room. 

Jack didn’t know whether to praise or fear her speedy reply. His fist tightening around her beret, now more chilled than still soggy, he pushed the door open only a fraction, pressing his temple against its finely carved wood to peer inside – and, naturally, saw nothing more than a sliver of flower-patterned wallpaper. It served to calm his nerves only slightly.

“Miss Fisher?”

Stopping just past the threshold, Jack believed himself an intruder, a single point of white-hot flash slicing neatly through the shadowy gloom. The room was laced in shadows disrupted only by a soft glow emanating from the bedside lamp. Outside, specks of gold and coral colored the horizon, the ocean rinsing the shade to a sprawling blush. Through the open window, ruffling the curtains, came in a subtle breeze; even the early-morning air appeared sweltering as his blood pounded rapidly in his veins. 

“Jack!” She only glanced at him over her shoulder, and he couldn’t help to startle. Unknowing whom to expect she’d grabbed a satin robe resting atop her duvet – which she now cast aside, noting it was only him who had invaded her privacy. Entirely unflustered in nothing but her undergarments, she returned to her chore, folding her discarded clothes across the footboard of the bed. 

Jack felt like melting into the glossy wooden floorboards, so deep was the flush he couldn't seem to ignore. It was his ringing speechlessness that finally made her turn. At first intending only another glance, her eyes remained fixed on his rigid form. What she found had clearly taken her by surprise. As it was, however, Jack had forgotten all about his own, rather unusual attire when faced with the vision before him. 

“Very enticing, Inspector! I see you've decided to join me, after all.” She came toward him, a bright smile across her lips.

“ _ Phryne _ –” It was hard to think, much less move. All he managed was a tiny, inconsequential step backward, as if the brightness of the corridor beyond might keep him safe. 

“As you can tell, I’ve dealt with the greater part of the situation myself.” She gestured apologetically at her lace-trimmed lingerie as though he required any further encouragement to hold her in his gaze. As it was the delicate silk was almost entirely see-through; that the water had rendered it even more so made his situation all the more disastrous. 

Never halting her steps she came closer, her gaze dropping to his mouth as he licked his suddenly dry lips. “I would’ve held back, of course, had I known of your return.” 

He didn’t  _ want _ to keep on staring, really; the reckless heat in his belly had taken charge of his senses, his eyes unable to look anywhere but at the creamy silk and glowing skin. Even as he felt simultaneously magnetized and impossibly frightened.

“Close your mouth, Jack – and the  _ door _ , if you so desire to stay.” Each added word made her tone go lower. He exhaled shakily; the caress of her voice made him shudder, an imperceptible shift he willed her not to bring to attention. She didn’t, instead arriving before him and stepping up close.

In lack of his customary lapels to hold on to, Phryne reached up to brush her fingertips along the top of his shirt. Against the sensitive skin of his throat, her gentle touch was enough to make the air stutter in his lungs. When  she reached one finger into his collar to dip into the hollow at the base of his throat Jack itched to tug her closer, needing her to crowd his space.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to interrupt. I was just returning your hat.” Jack raised it weakly between their bodies in demonstration. Even ensuring to make no contact with her silk-clad skin, with his eyes following the motion he lingered where the fabric met her breasts,  the neckline plunging to suggest the swell underneath. His gaze snapped up, though not before sparks of anticipation had shot through him.

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ve made it just in time for the main event.”  His thoughts must have been written openly across his features as she flashed him a wicked, knowing smile, which turned momentarily thoughtful as she considered him, clearly delighting in his fluster.

_ It was nothing he hadn’t seen before _ . Instead of soothing his stumbling heart as he’d hoped, what was instead accomplished was a broader array of images to turn over in his mind, filling what sparse blanks had been left by the moment in which he currently found himself. Burned into his mind was the image of feathered fans parting around her breasts, and that sinful dress she’d worn just the other night. The warmth of her against him became all the more prominent. Impossible to ignore. The problem was that he didn’t want to. 

Right before his resolve could tear completely into shreds, he found his voice. Just barely. “Could you–” He motioned with his head toward her dressing screen, earning a sideways glance and a tilt of her head. “Please, Miss Fisher.” Nearly choking him, the words stuck heavily to his throat, pinned there by her slyly laughing eyes.

“You know, most men go out of their way to get me out of my clothes and not  _ into _ them,” she said, almost too casually, and took the beret from his grip. Jack’s hand, as she turned, trembled minimally by his side as he fought the urge to pull her close. Instead, he was left feeling strangely hollow, once more denied the relief of finally feeling her body against his own. 

It was different, thought Jack, with her almost at his fingertips as the air grew heavy with promise. The slightest bend in the passing of time, the world holding its breath, and perhaps the early bright, tempted him beyond his reach when nothing appeared to be of consequence. 

With the beret now placed atop a chest of drawers and Phryne behind her cover, he had nothing to hold on to and only her silhouette exposed to his view to keep him occupied. She must have done it on purpose, letting the minimal light caress her shifting curves to draw his eye. He could all but feel her smile behind the safety of her divider and wanted nothing more than to taste it. 

“If you’re so opposed to lending me a hand, could you at least pass me my towel?” His thoughts loosened their grasp just enough to allow him to move and his legs carried him to where the towel in question had been set, atop her bed on its fluffy doona. All the way, he was caught up in the whisper of her warmth, wondering what might have been if it hadn't been for the thin layers protecting her skin from his touch. 

As he absentmindedly ran his hands over the softness of the towel – about to wrap around her skin where he, again, had not – the cold had wedged itself deeply into his mind. And so he continued on with his gaze cast downward until his dwellings were cut short by Phryne sucking in a breath. 

Immediately, his eyes snapped up, and it was only when his eyes were on hers that he registered what he had seen. Unmasked curves glowing in the last of the moonlight, small breasts, and, just briefly at the very edge of his vision, the dark shadow of hair between her thighs. 

For once, she appeared appropriately stunned. Not quite flustered, perhaps, but caught off guard as he was by the unexpected development. “That’s–that’s not what I had in mind,” she whispered.

Where he found her eyes wide but earnest, her scarlet lips parted in awe, he could only imagine the absolute shock distorting his own features.

“Not that I’m complaining.”

His eyes flicked between her discarded lingerie, which lay heavy with dampness across the edge of the dressing screen, and the openness of her face, interlaced with a tender shine and just a pinch of challenge, as she had paused in her movements to await what he might do. 

What followed, to her, must have come as an utter letdown. 

“Phryne, I’m sorry.”

“No.” Muffling his doubts, she pressed her finger to his lips. “It’s alright.” He nodded, slowly and with disbelief – and with her finger still on his lips as her eyes dropped to follow. Even while strictly focused on her face, he was painfully aware of the sensitive column of her throat and her finely structured collarbones, which he wanted to feel beneath his lips. He realized then that he had yet to fulfill the duty that had brought him there; his hands had so far remained knotted into the towel’s soft fabric. 

“Come here.”

He spun her around with a gentle hand to her shoulder and she went easily. When he was certain she wouldn't see, he dropped his gaze briefly to the gentle curve of her breasts, the fragile breath of a moment before her back was turned toward him, blocking his view, leaving her exposed only to the sun and moon’s joined touch. And then not even to that as he spread the large towel between his hands and wrapped it carefully around her petite form. 

Phryne took over the edges to hold it closed at her front, and even the brush of her fingertips against his hand flooded him with another rush of electric warmth. He wasn't sure he was breathing, didn't think he needed to. Such primal needs would only dampen his senses, when they found themselves in a second so fragile and ethereal that everything else was clouded.

Carefully, ran his hands down her shoulders and upper arms, drying her. Feeling strong muscle under smooth, warm skin as Phryne stayed impossibly still. Like himself, she was barely breathing and he could see by the flutter of her lashes that her eyes had fallen closed. 

His arms circled her waist almost instinctively, and then his lips were at her jaw and he brushed a kiss just behind it, the texture of her skin overwhelming him. He went lower, to the side of her neck and her pounding pulse, which he desired to both soothe and further increase. He had the courage for neither, yet both left an ache in his heart almost too familiar to hurt. Her hands landed on his atop her belly and, as his tongue darted out to taste the flutter beneath her skin, tightened, and in that same moment, from her lips fell a strangled little moan. Jack instantly stiffened.

Two nights ago, on the chaise, her moans as he poured her fizzing champagne had been filthy and provocative, loud and delighted. Put together just right, the perfect combination of improper and playfully alluring like the splashes trickling from his bottle by which they were brought forth. The night had had her back, a rich dark not yet coated in blush. The stars giving a sharp clearness to what would be blurred with magic by the time the sun came up to usher out the moon.

Now, at the break of day, it was gentle and shaky and real, and no flirty remarks succeeded it. It was too much. He felt Phryne melting slightly in his arms as she exhaled and the tension seeped from her form. She was prolonging the touch, all of her against all of him before it was gone for what would be an eternity. The spell was broken, the moment gone. She applied one final, loving touch of her hands to his, then released her grip and allowed him to step away. 

Yet in the end, she was the first to move as he stood frozen with longing rather than shock, and thought, perhaps, that all was not lost; she drew the towel tighter around herself and made for the bureau. One delicate second he saved for the sinking of his heart, breathing deeply in order to steady himself and trying not to let the hint of a private smile on her face as she passed get the better of him. 

Clattering resounded at his back and Jack turned to find her perched on the very edge of the chaise, filling a single glass with leftover champagne. Its crystal surface played enticingly with the muffled moonlight. He sat on the far end, by the backrest, and waited, but as she handed him the glass, Phryne didn’t go back for a second. Instead, she scooted closer, watched as he drank, and seized it right from his grip. He wasn’t sure what stunned him more, her bare, curled-up legs pressing against his or her return of the glass, engraved now with her signature red lipstick after she’d taken a sip. She, on the other hand, seemed to pay neither a second thought, having concluded that it just felt right. 

“Now, since you’re already here, would you like to go over what we witnessed tonight?”

With the way she fit so naturally against him, he found it exceptional he’d caught her question at all. 

“I’m sure it can wait until morning.” It was late, or early, he reasoned; he’d done more than enough and they both needed sleep. With their investigation gaining speed, the coming days were sure to be challenging. What he hadn’t anticipated were her eyes lit up in delighted surprise, soon laden with mischief. 

“Oh, but I’d hate to be of such bad influence. First, a midnight swim, intermeddling with my private affairs,” she glanced down at herself draped in nothing but the flowing cloth, which Jack had done his utmost to banish from his mind, “kicking up your heels…” Always true to her word, she did just that, and draped her legs across his lap. Jack could only watch, completely astonished. The last remaining thread of his sanity hung suspended on the edge of her towel, which had ridden up to mid-thigh. 

Refusing to let her win, he dropped his hand to her calf and kept his expression in check. He stroked her smooth skin with feigned thoughtfulness and brought the champagne flute to his lips a second time. It gave him the time he needed to weigh her words in his mind. The new angle had brought her even closer; her breath came softly against his neck, making his skin tingle, and at their contact he was flooded with courage, his heart back where it belonged.

“Too entertaining for your tastes? Would you like me to keep a stricter eye on you?” Had he turned his head to study her reaction, her face would’ve been a fingerbreadth from hers at most. And so he could only hear – and feel – her small huff as she reached over to snatch the champagne flute, which he’d held suspended away from her in the air, demonstrating his theory. 

“Oh Jack, you know I love your eyes on me,” she said breezily. His well-practiced self-restraint was hard at work not to let his amusement show, the corner of his mouth threatening a smile.

“But I appreciate just as much a man who knows when to let loose.” Phryne cupped his jaw and there she was, searching his eyes as her own went dark and deep with awe. There they were, their souls once more laid open and protected by the night. 

Despite knowing she wouldn’t press, he found his heartbeat roaring wildly in his ears and was certain she could hear. And he was right – she let her thumb trace his lips and then drew back with almost wistful but tender eyes. Not yet knowing where the force of it would take them, she’d made a conscious choice to elude the pull, which, for Jack, was slowly escaping the realm of the possible. 

From the flute in her grip, she tipped back the last of the champagne, washing away all that was left to say. Both at a loss for words, yet unashamed, they fell comfortably silent and let the first light embrace them from behind; its warm hue spoke of the promises ahead, urging them onward. Jack was only vaguely aware of the minutes trickling by, losing himself in the slight press of her body, her warm skin beneath his hands. 

He couldn’t have said how much time had passed by the time he felt her head sink against his shoulder. A smooth, graduate shift, so slow he wasn’t sure when they’d gone from hovering to touching. He only knew that she was there with her breathing soft and even and the strands of her hair leaving a wet spot on the fabric of his shirt. He couldn’t bring himself to mind. 

“Phryne,” muttered Jack halfheartedly. Perhaps too quietly to hear; or it was the spell of the time gifting their hearts another shared beat. When she didn’t stir, he felt a strange, almost hazy sense of relief. It would be so simple, he thought, to stay. To let the minutes pass freely until his mind joined hers in the land of the dreaming, just as he knew he couldn’t, not yet.

He waited until the rising sun began to color the opposite wall a bittersweet red; only the caress of his thumb against her leg indicated the passing of time as everything felt completely still, the world watching him prepare. 

Finally, with a piece of his heavy heart left behind with hers, Jack rose on the first rays of light. He squeezed her briefly in his arms, pressed a kiss to her hair, and slipped quietly away.

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally getting a smutty second part so stay tuned! ;) (Whoever can guess the title of part two based on that of the first one gets a virtual cookie.) Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
